Demons
by AllShesGotxCaptain
Summary: Ever since we were stranded in that damn cave all he cared about was getting back. Back to his Annabeth. She's breathtaking and everything he needs. Yet, here we are again, at this damn oak tree in the middle of the night. I felt his breath on my neck and all I could think is wrong. This is wrong. Funny how that didn't stop me from entangling my fingers in his. *EventualPercy/OC*


**Hey guys! So I've decided to revamp a story idea I've been working on so here's a new go at it! I hope you like it and if you'd like to read more please, please, review! Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I own none of the characters or world created by Rick Riordan and all use of such is intended for creative and non-profit use.**

**Rate M: Lemons/adult language/content/violence**

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_**Demons**_

**Chapter 1: Shadows**

It was the smoke that woke me.

The smell of burning wood filled my nostrils and seeped into my lungs. My eyes blurred against the stark red that echoed over the darkness. My head felt heavy and my tongue tasted thick and dry. The only sound was the small cracks and pop of a fire and my steady breath. With a groan I shifted against the hard surface I was sprawled against. I sucked in a painful hiss at the jolt that ran through my shoulders and lower back and found that my wrists were bound behind my back with some sort of metal that I didn't recognize as handcuffs.

After clearing the haze from my eyes I let them adjust to the flickering flames dancing across a concave wall. The dirt crunching beneath my boots and the grains sifted against the denim of my jeans. I was in a cave.

I think.

My limbs had some sort of strength return to them while a rush of adrenaline surged through my veins. Or perhaps it was panic. Whichever it caused me to become alert as possible, my brown irises expanding to take in whatever characteristic I could make out within my unfamiliar surroundings. I used momentum to sit me upright onto my bottom and farther from the fire of crude kindling that sat only ten or so feet away from me. I felt the cool wall brush against my fingertips and craned my neck to see that the rocky terrain ended maybe six feet or so to my right.

The inky darkness that the fire couldn't penetrate loomed to my right.

"Hello?" My throat burned and the word came out a hoarse whisper.

I cleared my throat with a painful cough.

"He-Hello?"

Another voice echoed from the shadows.

'_Shit! Shit! Shit!' _I repeated in my mind as I awkwardly hobbled towards the fire.

My throat tightened with fear and I wasn't sure if it was from the heat of the flames or the voice in the dark that made tears spring to my eyes. I wasn't even sure what sort of protection a fire of pathetic looking sticks would offer to a girl with her hands tie behind her back but I needed the light, needed the heat, in hopes that whatever was in the darkness would stay within it.

"Who… Who are you?" The voice was deep and threatening.

"Leave me alone! I- I don't know who you are, or how I got here, but just stay the fuck back!" I answered back the tremor I tried to hold back breaking my voice.

Stupid tears started to stream down my cheeks and I did my best to wipe them at shoulder of my black t-shirt.

"Well, I hate to make things worse…" The voice sounded closer and there was the sound of shuffling footsteps. "I think we're in trouble."

"Who are you?" My voice was low.

There was more shuffling.

I used the heels of my feet to scoot myself away from the fire and towards the wall beside it. I needed to feel something solid at my back and the light flickering in front of me. Another heavy footstep and shifting dirt echoed in the expanse of the cave.

A grey sneaker emerged from the darkness.

The flames illuminated a denim-clad pair of legs that attached to those sneakers. A torso in a t-shirt, that was a startling hue of orange, wrapped snug around a slim torso. His arm stretched behind him indicating his hands were bound as well. A sort of beaded necklace hung at his collar and a lightly tanned jaw stained with stubble peeked beneath shaggy black bangs. He couldn't be more than twenty something and even beneath the grime I had to admit he was attractive.

"I'm Percy." His blue eyes shone against the dark surrounding. "Percy Jackson."

Those blue eyes observed me from head to toe, slowly and surely as if assessing any strength or weakness that could be hidden beneath my clothes. I suddenly felt four instead of nineteen. Those blues eyes rose over my boots, stopping at the tattoos on my arms, even pausing for a moment at the dip in my V-neck. His gaze softened at the sight of my tear stained cheeks. I glared in defense.

"Want to tell me why the fuck I'm tied up in a cave, Perry?"

He glared back.

_~Six Hours Earlier~_

I loved to transform things.

To make something beautiful or terrifying with simple contouring or a few hues of a pallet. It was as if I could slip a different skin on. Create scars that never were or smooth away blemishes that would be unfitting of an ethereal being.

I finished dusting the white highlight just underneath the brows and tapped the excess pigment from the brush. Green eyes blinked impatiently as I finished the final touches of her liquid liner and perfected the swooping lined with a gentle stroke.

"All done." I nodded.

"About time."

I smiled politely as the woman in my chair peered into the mirror and preened. The ballerina observed different angles of her face and seemed satisfied and stepped out of the chair. She unzipped her company hoodie, dumped it unceremoniously on the vanity, and continued from the dressing room. The almost sheer blue of the gown swaying behind her lithe form as the clunk of her pointe shoes sounded down the hall.

"Sarah's such a bitch."

I turned and found a one of the chorus girls in the chair. The show was going to start in less than half an hour and her lipstick needed refreshing. Her brown eyes were warm and she had a smirk tugging at the corners of her full lips.

"I'm Lauren, call me Lo." She smiled and leaned back into the chair, her hand absentmindedly patting her stiff bun for flyaway hairs. "Y'know she only got the lead because she's _close _with the director."

Her tongue poked against the inside of her cheek and I laughed.

"Oh really?" I reached for the small angled brush in my work-belt and shifted for the horrid shade of pink that was uniform for the back up dancers. "She's also an amazing dancer. Her extension is to die for."

She raised a brow.

"And yeah, she's a massive bitch." I smiled.

The blonde leaned her head back and snorted a loud laugh. She was gorgeous enough where it just made her endearing instead of embarrassing. I was met with a straight and white smile.

"I like you makeup girl, you going to be here for the full two weeks of show?" Lauren made a face at the lipstick I slid the brush against.

"If I don't manage to fuck up your face, hopefully." I beckoned her to sit up as I traced along the lines of her lips. "And it's Nadia."

Lauren turned towards the mirror and smacked her lips, spreading the color evenly and turned to lounge back in the chair towards me.

"So, Nadia, you used to dance?"

It was more a statement than a question.

"What makes you say that?" I ran a hand through the short black strands of my hair. My roommate, Daniel, had talked me into a pixie-cut and it did frame my face rather nicely. The downside the layered bangs often fell in front of my eyes.

"You mentioned Sarah's extension." She cocked her head to the side. "If there's one thing that girl can do its spread her legs."

I shook my head with a small chuckle. Dancers never really had nice things to say about the leads but Sarah wasn't making any friends in her company. Nonetheless I was surprised she asked, I was short and had thick thighs and a larger bust. Not what you would expect from a dancer.

"You could say that." I capped the lipstick and moved to the side as a group of dancers huddled past me through the door. "It's almost time for you to go, I think."

"Yeah, yeah… wait!" Lauren studied my face before her eyes shifted behind me. "No… are you?"

I knew what she was seeing. On the walls of the dressing room contained past performances at the small theatre. She used to dance here, before going to Julliard and performing in large venues.

My mother's face was plastered all over these walls.

"LAUREN! GET YOUR ASS IN THE WINGS! TEN TILL!"

"Oh shit! Sorry Nadia, see you at intermission!"

The blonde flew from her seat and I was left in an empty dressing room cramped with duffel bags and smelt of cheap hairspray and sweat. I plopped down in the chair and spared a glance to the Swan Lake poster featuring my mother when she was around my age before turning my attention to the mirror. I loosened the tool belt and fumbled for my makeup brush disinfectant.

I couldn't help but to stop and look at myself. I wondered if I looked like her so much that people could see the similarities in a faded poster of my mother. She passed away a few years ago, and I didn't have a dad growing up. It's modern day New York, I doubted I'm the only girl with daddy issues or the only one to lose a mom to cancer. She was gorgeous though, and I suppose we did have the same large brown eyes and heart shaped face. For me that's where the similarities ended. I grimaced at the mirror. Her body was long and lithe with strong but lean muscles and light brown hair.

My nose was slightly larger and slightly crooked at the top, my lips were thin and I felt my face lacked bone structure, people always assuming I was younger than I am.

Plus I had flat feet.

My hips, breasts and five foot-one stature coupled with that and I am exactly what every prima ballerina wasn't supposed to be. I loved performing though, the feeling of being on stage a high that I couldn't compare too much else. I always loved the performing arts but when high school ended and it wasn't an option for college I switched to working behind the scenes. Most of the companies know my mother and it isn't too hard of a job finding work in the smaller theatres and opera houses.

I tore my gaze from the mirror and decided to get some from air outside the hot, stuffy, room. The music from the orchestra flitted into the hallway as I breathed in a cooling lungful of air. The backdoor to the wings of the stage led just off to the left of the small concrete hallway, and I decided no one would mind if I hung back to watch the first act.

As I closed my hand around the handle I felt something.

A shiver slid up my spine and I knew it was something bad. I got this feeling at the pit of my stomach sometimes. A feeling that accompanied moments when I thought I saw something or heard something. The same feeling I got a few summers ago when I felt the earth tremble and I swore I saw horses in the sky.

The air got heavy and I could hear a small feminine laugh.

The lights strung along the walls started to blink. Shadows stretched around me and suddenly I knew that running was useless.

I could feel its breath on my neck.

Then the shadows claimed me.


End file.
